


Spare Chaos

by Unfair_Verona



Category: Alias (TV), Heroes (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Mistaken Identity, Non-Explicit Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, mostly just crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 04:05:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13872753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unfair_Verona/pseuds/Unfair_Verona
Summary: An uncanny resemblance provides a very unique opportunity.





	Spare Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most cracky thing I've ever written, but I had fun. ;)

It began one morning at SD6 when Arvin Sloane pulled up an image taken from a security camera, and a familiar face filled the screen. Upon seeing it, Sydney Bristow was immediately filled with a fiery, prickling emotion that she liked to describe as loathing, but in reality was far more complicated.

“Sark,” she said, narrowing her eyes. She’d know that face anywhere, she’d punched it so many times, after all.

Sloane shook his head. “That man is not Julian Sark. His name is Adam Monroe. He has information regarding a clandestine organization operating out of Texas. We would like to know what he knows.” He smiled at Sydney in a way that never boded well, and she knew that she was about to get a new assignment.

Rather than bring this Adam person in, she was supposed to gain his trust, make him confide in her. Sydney had a feeling that there was much more to this man than Sloane had initially told her, and she wondered what it was. She found out when she saw the rest of the security footage. Several bullets hit the man directly in the chest, and he got up and walked away like it was nothing.

“He was wearing bulletproof gear,” she suggested. Easy.

Sloane sighed. “I’m afraid it’s a little more complex.”

“How?”

“From what we understand, Adam possesses some sort of rare genetic anomaly that allows him to heal instantly,” he explained.

“Heal instantly? From gunshot wounds?” Sydney had heard many odd things over the past few years, but this was a new one.

Nodding, Sloane added, “And we have reason to believe that he is also far older than he looks.”

“How much older?” she wondered.

“About four hundred years.”

She choked on her coffee, then after a brief coughing fit, started to laugh. Sloane just stared at her.

“My god, you’re actually _serious_.”

A slow nod was the response. “He has access to very important information. This Company that he worked for, they developed a virus that has the ability to wipe out half of the world’s population.”

Sydney leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “Come on. This is getting _too_ ridiculous.”

“It may seem that way to you now, but it’s all true, I assure you.”

 

It _had_ seemed quite surreal at first. When she first met Adam face to face, Sydney was taken aback at the similarities between him and Sark. The differences would appear over time. Adam went with her without a struggle, seeming remarkably calm and almost bored, like maybe he was amused by her. There was an easy smug arrogance about him, and that part was definitely familiar. While Sydney kept her gun trained on him, he explained to her who he was, and that he was looking for a virus in order to destroy it. He spoke frankly, like he was expecting her not to believe him. And really, at first, she didn’t. Some parts of the story had seemed more than a little fanciful: people with superhuman abilities—oh, and the whole immortality thing. She’d been prepared to dismiss it all, despite what the security footage had shown, but then he’d sliced open his palm right in front of her, and the skin had knitted itself back together in a matter of seconds.

“That’s a neat trick,” she said wearily. He’d just smirked at her.

Abilities aside, there was most certainly something about Adam that Sydney did not trust, a calculating, plotting look behind his familiar eyes. The distrust, she reasoned, had nothing to do with the uncanny resemblance either, that was just a coincidence. Or perhaps men who looked like them were automatically sons of bitches. 

Still. They’d been together for a few weeks, now, developing what appeared to be a strange symbiotic relationship. He didn’t know exactly who she was or who she worked for, obviously: she led him to believe that she was a lower-level investigator for local law enforcement. She immediately played to his ego, pretending to be astonished and infatuated by him. He’d give her snippets of information, and in return she promised not to reveal his secrets to her superiors. Sydney learned as much as she could about the Company (she had no trouble believing that such a nefarious clandestine organization existed), about the other ‘gifted’ individuals that Adam was aware of: a man who could travel through time, a girl who could shoot electricity from her fingers. And about this virus, which apparently had everyone’s interests piqued. 

Adam _was_ fascinating, Sydney had to grudgingly admit. And so when they started sleeping together, she told herself it was for the assignment, in the hopes that she might disarm him, get him to reveal more of the information she was sure he was withholding. But she knew he didn’t care; he was cold inside, dangerous, fanatical. He had well-honed arguments and often painted himself as the victim, but Sydney had an inkling that there was a reason he’d been locked up for thirty years, and it was probably a good one. 

Still. She didn’t have to trust someone to fuck them. It was simply a way to alleviate boredom, to de-stress, to cope with the unending extremes of her life. It was a balancer. And sometimes, well…the resemblance between Adam and Sark didn’t hurt. It was her dirtiest secret, the way she was attracted to her enemy, even when he repulsed her on a logical, mental level. It was an idiotic crush that she’d never been able to shake and it was part of the reason she hated him so much, looked forward to their encounters so she could prove it. But she always let him get away.

Life was complicated enough, without adding superpowers and pandemics to the list.

 

Julian Sark had also been looking for Adam, and at first the reasons had been somewhat personal: there was a bit of mistaken identity going around, and it was annoying him that this other man had seemingly showed up out of the blue wearing his face. He’d heard all sorts of bizarre things about Adam Monroe, namely that he was indestructible, that he had valuable intel about a virus that could potentially wipe out most of the Earth’s population, and that he was several hundred years old.

This was all of great interest to his employers. And they weren’t the only ones. Naturally, Sydney had gotten there first. 

So he decided it would be prudent to begin surveillance on them, a surveillance that was probably a little more detailed than necessary. It left a bad taste in his mouth to see them interacting. Sydney seemed to be dealing with the whole regeneration thing in a very calm manner. Sark recognized the prickling in his chest as jealousy, and forced the thought away without examining it. He installed cameras in the hotel room where they were staying, and soon learned that they’d become lovers. He’d never felt so sick and aroused at the same time, and he wondered what was wrong with him that made him watch the intimate scenes over and over again—if it was masochism or narcissism that got him hard at the sight of watching the object of his obsession/mortal enemy fuck a man who looked exactly like him. There were definitely deep-seated psychological issues at play.

 

It had been a terrible week for Sark. He was never setting foot in Texas again after this, he swore to himself. First, he’d been accosted by a ridiculous Japanese man with a sword who kept calling him ‘Kensei.’ He’d restrained himself from shooting the idiot long enough to explain that he was not this person. “I’ve been getting that a lot,” he said.

Clearly Adam was a bit of a bastard, everyone seemed to want to kill him. He supposed they did have that in common. “But I’m not him. I can prove it.” He sliced the edge of his arm, not deep, but enough to bleed, to prove that he couldn’t magically heal himself. The little man seemed puzzled, crestfallen. “You look just like him.”

“Lots of people resemble each other. Now, explain to me why you’re looking for him.”

The little man explained it, launching into a bizarre story that involved time travel and avenging his father’s death. It was exhausting to listen to, but Sark got the gist: Adam was a murderer and a zealot with delusions of godhood. It all made perfect sense.

“I have to stop him,” the Japanese man said determinedly, and Sark almost admired him. This was the sort of stalwart, well-meaning fellow who would most likely get himself killed. 

“Well, go on then,” he said, and the man had blinked at him, fish-like, and scurried away. 

Next he had to contend with a frightening blonde girl. She was more than a little imbalanced, he could tell by the sadistic sheen in her eyes, but he hadn’t been prepared for her to lift her hand and dispense several volts of electricity at him. Luckily, he had managed to dodge her, but not entirely, there was still an ungodly flash of pain as some of it caught the edge of his arm. He’d almost killed her, but had held back. These people were becoming quite tiresome.

 

Sydney had been learning a lot. Adam was to meet with a man named Peter, and they were going to destroy the virus. Or at least, that was what Adam said. She didn’t believe that in the slightest. She’d gotten to know him, somewhat, as much as a man like that would let himself be known. You could discover a lot about a person by the way they kissed, the way they fucked. The speed, the movement, the pressure. How they touched. If they were rough. Eye contact. That sort of thing. If you were actively paying attention, you could learn a person’s true nature by taking them to bed. And Adam was obsessive, delusional, and quite dangerous. Sydney knew he had no intention of destroying anything but the majority of the world’s population. The guy had a real hard-on for genocide. He tried to gloss it over, but she read between the lines. It was the way he talked about the virus, like he loved it rather than feared it. His thinly veiled disdain for humanity. The way he looked at her like she was nothing but a fucktoy and a means to an end, one of the disposable, ordinary ones, waiting to be crushed under his heel. 

 

“Don’t you ever feel cursed, though?” she asked him one night, stretching out on the bed.

“In the very beginning, I suppose,” he replied after thinking about it for a moment. “I didn’t understand, yet.”

“Understand what?”

His eyes glittered. “How much good can be done. I have a responsibility, you see. To save the world.”

Sydney almost, almost laughed, but instead forced herself to look sympathetic and encouraging. 

“I can help you,” she told him. “My bosses—”

“—Don’t know what they’re dealing with, I’m afraid. No, I have to take care of this myself.”

“I just wish there was something…” she tried again.

“There is,” he said, and she let herself be drawn into his arms.

 

Adam wasn’t stupid, however. Sydney knew he was expecting her to try and stop him, and he was probably going to try to kill her if she got in his way. She knew that he thought of her as an easy distraction, something to play with while he bided his time. And maybe she thought of him the same way. It wasn’t very ethical, what she was doing, but she was getting the information that she needed and working out some…issues at the same time. 

It was an oppressively hot afternoon, and Adam had left, gone off somewhere with Peter, who Sydney had learned was from a wealthy family in New York with political connections—and also had super-powers. She was sitting outside the hotel, having just finished sending some information to Marshall.

Approaching footsteps made her look up. A tired-looking young Japanese man was standing there. “I’m looking for Adam Monroe,” he said. 

Sydney smiled at him. “Hi. What’s your name?”

“Hiro Nakamura.” 

So he was the time traveler. She remembered the name from one of Adam’s stories, he’d mentioned it more than once, specifically that Hiro had been his friend and had betrayed him and stolen his girl, or something like that. But this sweet-faced, sad kid didn’t seem like the betraying, girl-stealing type. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, all sweetness and light innocence. “I’m sorry, but Adam isn’t here right now. Why are you looking for him?”

Hiro’s expression grew even graver. “He is very dangerous. He killed my father, and many others. I have to stop him.”

“How are you going to do that?” she wondered conversationally. 

“I don’t know,” he said, becoming crestfallen. He sighed. “I have to find him first. I thought I did, but it was the other one.”

At this, Sydney’s ears immediately perked up. “What other one?” she asked.

 

Sark watched Adam leave the hotel. He was about to make the stupidest decision of his life. Normally, he wasn’t so reckless, but he’d spent weeks watching Sydney with his doppelganger, and the jealousy twisting inside of him, compounded with the Texas heat, was driving him briefly insane. He knew he had one chance to get it out of his system, this one evil opportunity that presented itself. So he changed clothes, styled his hair a little differently, then used the duplicate key card to let himself into the hotel room. Sydney looked up at him as he entered. If she knew who he really was, she didn’t let on, just smiled and said, “Hey.”

He nodded, then crossed the room slowly, walking over to where she was. “Did you—” she began to ask, but was cut off as he roughly kissed her. 

 

 

Sydney knew it wasn’t Adam almost immediately. Her heart sped up inside her chest at the implications as she contemplated the gravity of the situation. She should have known that Sark was lurking around somewhere, and Hiro’s mention of ‘the other one’ had confirmed it. Potentially, this was everything that she’d been wanting, but that was also terrifying. It was one thing to entertain her darkest fantasies while in another man’s arms, that was safe. It was entirely different to give in to the real thing. _Why was he even doing this?_ she wondered. Was it a set up? No, she reasoned, that wasn’t his style. Even while being a deceptive bastard, there was a strange, honest streak in him that had always perplexed her. Sark wasn’t a sociopath, that would be too simple. He had emotions, even empathy, but he’d just been trained to turn them off if they inconvenienced him. The work he did wasn’t done out of any obsessive mission, like Adam or Sloane. Rather, it was simply a _job_ , he did it because he was good at it and it paid well. 

She’d always felt that he had a kind of odd respect for her, and possibly an attraction—she’d have to be blind not to notice the way that he sometimes looked at her. And so for a moment, as Sydney allowed herself to be kissed, she entertained the possibility that he’d come here simply because he wanted her, too.

It really was amazing how two virtually identical men could be so different. Adam had a lot of technique—he’d had a long time to learn—but there was very little underlying emotion. He always kissed her like a man who had all the time in the world, and wanted to remind her that she didn’t. With Sark, there was an overwhelming dark need, a barely restrained violence—an utter deluge of emotion, versus none at all.

_Nobody is ever going to know_ , Sydney told herself, over the roar of blood in her ears. She could get used to the way that he touched her, most definitely. 

The intensity had momentarily thrown her, but she found herself responding in kind, almost getting lost in the feeling of his mouth, his fingers gripping in her hair. They found their way to the bed, clothes quickly removed and tossed to the floor. The look on his face showed that he couldn’t quite believe what was happening either, it was a weird sort of awe. Sydney liked that look on him, unhinged and vulnerable. He let her pin him underneath her, something that Adam hadn’t been overly fond of. He was old-fashioned that way. He was old-fashioned in most ways, the guy was essentially a living relic. Once again, she stopped to marvel at the similarities and differences. She realized that she preferred the real thing to the imitation that she’d been sleeping with for weeks.

It was every bit as violent as she had imagined, full of biting and scratching; they were both going to be bruised and sore, but it was also far more emotional than she’d anticipated. Years of tension climbed to the surface and let loose, powerful and scorching. Immediately, Sydney knew that this wouldn’t be just a one-time thing, and they’d both have to deal with the ramifications of that later on. She took a moment to simply bask in the afterglow.

 

The afterglow, naturally, was short-lived. In the blink of an eye, she’d snatched up the small knife that she always carried, and slashed at the palm of his hand. Sark barely flinched, just scowled, first at her and then down at the seeping cut. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she demanded. 

“No,” he replied calmly, “just a _bitch_.”

She meant to hit him, but instead, for some reason, she laughed. Possibly because the whole thing was so completely ridiculous. A grin caught the corners of his mouth. 

“You know,” he said, “yesterday I met a man who travels in time.” 

“Hiro? I met him, too. I can’t figure out what he’s going on about.”

“Apparently, he wants to save the world, he’s taking it quite seriously.”

“He’s sweet, just very odd,” Sydney remarked. “He and Adam have some kind of bad blood between them. I think it has to do with a girl.”

“Doesn’t it always?” Sark rolled his eyes. 

“I hear that there’s one of them that can fly,” she told him.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, after what I’ve seen so far. I can’t wait to get away from this place.” He shuddered.

“Back to the normal chaos, right?” she said.

“Yes.” He met her eyes for a long moment, until Sydney abruptly looked away. He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the door crashing open to reveal Hiro standing there, sword in hand.

“Not again,” muttered Sark. “What is _wrong_ with these people?”

Hiro looked at him with fury and Sydney rushed to say, “Hiro, it’s ok! This isn’t Adam. It’s the other one.”

The poor man looked more confused than ever, and she honestly felt sorry for him. “But you…you’ve been with Adam,” he stammered. “I saw you together.”

“I know, and it is very complicated, but I promise you that this isn’t him,” Sydney explained. “He’s with Peter.”

“Peter Petrelli?” Hiro scrunched up his face in bewilderment.

“Yes,” Sydney nodded. “They’re going to Primatech Paper to destroy the virus. Or set it loose. Either way.” She shrugged. 

The Japanese man looked utterly horrified, and ran out the door, yelling something. 

Sark glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow. Something clicked into place. Apparently he’d been so busy with his schedule of voyeurism and being accosted by mutants that he’d lost track of the larger picture. “The virus is gone, isn’t it?” 

Sydney grinned, getting that fiery look in her eyes that he secretly loved, even if it usually meant trouble for him. “Oh, you bet. The place was surprisingly easy to infiltrate. A guy named Noah Bennet was really helpful. Anyhow, the real virus has been removed to a safe facility, the vials they’re going after are filled with saline solution. A team should be arriving to pick up Adam and Mr. Petrelli in a few minutes. Also, I have all of the Company’s files.”

“He underestimated you,” Sark said with a nod of respect.

She adjusted the sheet around her body. “Of course he did.”

“You do understand that I need that information for my employers as well.”

“Of course you do.” She smirked at him. “And you’re going to have to fight me for it. Business as usual. This isn’t going to stop us from doing our jobs. Let’s keep things interesting.”

And interesting was the way things stayed.


End file.
